Lysander
Ay me! For aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth,
But either it was different in blood —
Hermia
O cross! Too high to be enthralled to low.
Lysander
Or else misgrafted in respect of years —
Hermia
O spite! Too old to be engaged to young.
Lysander
Or merit stood upon the choice of friends —
Hermia
O hell! To choose love by another's eyes.
Lysander
Or if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night
That in a spleen unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say "Behold!"
The jaws of darkness do devour it up.
So quick bright
things come to confusion.

~ A Midsummernight's Dream act 1 scene 1